a charming personality, a pretty face, short, shiny black hair, ivory legs—god you’re so perfect.
I can’t imagine how it must’ve felt for my mom when she answered my call. Her daughter, ever prideful, independent, and stoic- sobbing into the phone from an airport bathroom over a boy. She talked calmly, but I could tell she was seething over the disrespect I’d received from you. Aside from the plethora of other red flags, I think that’s proof enough that you were undeserving and always will be.
It is late in this region. The world moved on with itself, as it always does. My internal stories have played out, the shine of light in the sky has been subdued, and all that is left is the roar of a nearby train. Okay, perhaps an occasional airplane breaks the silence, too. Luckily, it's too cold for the majority of restless people around here to venture out into the night and disturb the peace.
I have a tree up for Yule. The strands of lights are starting to sputter and die, though. Only about a third of it is lit, and seems more eerie than cozy. I guess that slight dread suits me, tonight. Anything is better than feeling nothing, at this point.
I have a lot of wishes burning inside me. Knowing I am a mere ghost passing through life has sprouted all these fantasies that I write. I flit in and out of view, barely leaving a trace as I disappear. My existence is no more than a feather in a hurricane. Soon enough, no one will even know I was here.
As the last drop of hope evaporates, let it be known that all there was inside this shrine was a nasty case of compassion and love. These are all that I had to infect this world with. And it wasn't ever enough, but I didn't care about that part. I only cared that others might eventually overcome their reign of apathy and disgust for other humans. I only hoped I could spread all this feeling of love to others, lighten my own burden of concerns, and share some measure of civility with the world. There's nothing here, though. Just the same exasperating cycle of needless pain.
The mocking of my dreams where I have more than duties and requirements - where I share love and time with someone who loves and shares it with me - makes it harder to bear this weight of nothingness.
Perhaps the morning will bring a new optimism. As of this moment, though, all that exists is a lifeless emptiness.
Yet I go on hoping those I love will be well and feel contentment that I cannot feel.
We met 6 weeks ago, at our local bar...both just out having a guys/girls night. We talked for about 3 hours non-stop, and then exchanged numbers when my friend wanted to leave. Ever since then, you've been the person I go to for everything. Good news, bad news...I always wonder how you would react to certain things.
I was drunk last night, but every time I picture your face I can still remember and FEEL you putting your arm around me. I can still feel what it was like to jokingly tickle your belly. I still remember how it felt like confirmation when I left and you kissed me in front of all of your friends in the bar, and how you asked me to get home safe so that you could see me tomorrow, and the next night, and the next night after that.
I have never felt more adored, and I assure you, the feeling could not be more mutual.
Sometimes randomly meeting a guy in a bar just actually works out?? Holy crap, this is actually happening...
I fucked my whole life up for you. I cheated on my wife/mother of my child. You turned out to be nothing like I thought you were, lied about everything you ever told me, aren’t even cute like you are in your pictures, definitely not as smart as I thought you were and you were probably the worst lay I have ever had in my life. And your vagina smelled like eggs. Now my wife is divorcing me, our kids will grow up in a broken home, my friends won’t speak to me, I’m sleeping on my mom’s sofa, and my car is about to get repossessed so I’ll probably lose my job. What a flop that fantasy turned out to be. I’m never fucking another woman again.
Don’t cheat, people. It’s not worth it at all.
Why is it that everytime I think of you and then glance at a clock, it's 11:11 or 1:11?? Do I think of you that much or do I only think of you at these times of day?